They behold the broad banners, blood-darkened,

yet fair,

And a moment dissolves the last spell of despair, While a peal as of victory swells on the air,

Rolling out to the river.

And that cry, with a thousand strange echoings spread,

Till the ashes of heroes seemed stirred in their bed, And the deep voice of passion surged up from the dead

Aye! press on to the river!

On! on! like the rushing of storms through the hills,

On! on! with a tramp that is firm as their wills, And the one heart of thousands grows buoyant, and thrills,

As they pause by the river.

Then the wan face of Maryland, haggard and worn, At that sight lost the touch of its aspect forlorn, And she turned on the foeman full statured in scorn,

Pointing stern to the river.

And Potomac flowed calm, scarcely heaving her breast,

With her low-lying billows all bright in the west, For a charm as from God lulled the waters to rest Of the fair rolling river.

Passed! passed! the glad thousands march safe through the tide.

(Hark, despot! and hear the dread knell of your pride,

Ringing weird-like and wild, pealing up from the side Of the calm flowing river!)

'Neath a blow swift and mighty the tyrant may fall,
Vain! vain! to his God swells a desolate call,
For his grave has been hollowed, and woven his pall,
Since they passed o'er the river!

PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE.

BARBARA FRIETCHIE.

66

[The incidents which gave rise to this poem are said to have occurred during Stonewall Jackson's march through Frederick City, Maryland, just before the battle of South Mountain, in September, 1862. Some of the facts narrated having been called in question, Mr. Whittier has furnished the editor of this volume (November 15, 1885) with the following particulars: Of the substantial truth of the heroism of Barbara Frietchie I can have no doubt. Mrs. E. D. N. Southworth, the novelist, of Washington, sent me a slip from a newspaper, stating the circumstance as it is given in the poem, and assured me of its substantial correctness. Dorothea L. Dix, the philanthropic worker in the Union hospitals, confirmed it. From half a dozen other sources I had the account, and all agree in the main facts. Barbara Frietchie was the boldest and most outspoken Unionist in Frederick, and manifested it to the Rebel army in an unmistakable manner."]

UP from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,

The clustered spires of Frederick stand
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach tree fruited deep,

Fair as a garden of the Lord

To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,

On that pleasant morn of the early fall

When Lee marched over the mountain wall

Over the mountains, winding down,
Horse and foot into Frederick town.

Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,

Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon looked down, and saw not one.

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;

Bravest of all in Frederick town,

She took up the flag the men hauled down;

In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.

Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.

Under his slouched hat left and right
He glanced: the old flag met his sight.

"Halt !"—the dust-brown ranks stood fast; "Fire!"-out blazed the rifle-blast.

It shivered the window, pane and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;

She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.

"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country's flag," she said.

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;

The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word: